Building the Perfect Daddy (9 page)

“Because I learned the hard way that nothing in life is ever really free.”

“Cynical, aren't you?”

“Realistic,” she countered.

“You can call it what you want,” he told her, “but you'll see me around nine.”

She sighed. “Why are you doing this?”

He wasn't entirely sure of the answer to that question himself. Since she'd first opened the door to him on a rainy morning, he'd had more questions than answers. But for now, he only shrugged. “Maybe I feel guilty that I pushed you into agreeing to do the show without fully appreciating the impact it would have on your life.”

“I am getting a new kitchen out of it,” she reminded him.

He nodded. “And tonight, I'll help you clear out the old one.”

* * *

Lauryn had found a few empty boxes in the storage room at The Locker Room, so she threw those into the back of the van when she finally left the store after closing up. Then she detoured to her parents' house again to pick up Kylie and Zachary, who had been fed and bathed and were all ready for bed. Still, she had barely finished tucking them in when she heard a soft knock at the back door.

Ryder had brought more boxes with him, and while she was still skeptical of the reasons behind his offer, she couldn't deny that he did provide the labor he'd promised. He started on the top cabinets while she concentrated her efforts on the bottom. And he meticulously itemized the contents of each box on the outside, then carried them into the dining room where he stacked them against an empty wall.

“What's all of this stuff?”

Lauryn looked up. “What stuff?”

He handed her an old shoe box. She lifted the lid to peek inside. “Oh. I'd almost forgotten about these.”

“What are they?”

“Cookie cutters.”

“That's a lot of cookie cutters.”

She sifted through the metal shapes, her lips curving a little. “I used to bake a lot of cookies.”

“Why?”

She shrugged and put the lid back on the box. “It was fun. My sisters and I used to bake and decorate cookies with our mom, and it was a tradition I'd always imagined sharing with my own kids. Of course, that was before I realized that simply taking care of the kids would take so much time.”

“You don't bake anymore?”

“Rarely.” She dropped the shoe box inside the larger box he was filling. “And when I do, they're not the kind that I decorate with icing and colored sugars. I should probably get rid of that stuff, but I keep thinking—or at least hoping—that I'll get back to it someday.”

“Then you will,” he said, opening another shoe box filled with icing bags, tips and various other utensils that he assumed were also for her cookie decorating. He packed it up and Lauryn returned to boxing up the everyday dishes.

“Did your mom bake cookies for you?” she asked.

“No.”

The blunt, dismissive tone surprised her even more than the response. “Never?”

“She was always far too busy to concern herself with any kind of domestic or maternal duties.”

“Busy doing what?” she wondered.

“Back then, I'm not sure—probably medical research of some kind. Now Dr. Cristina Tobin is a research supervisor at the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta.”

“Then maybe it's a good thing that she wasn't baking cookies for you when she came home from the lab,” Lauryn said, making him smile.

“I'm sure that was her primary concern,” he noted dryly.

“So your sister followed your mother's footsteps into medicine,” she said, intrigued by this unexpected insight into his family. “Did your father work in construction?”

“No, he's a doctor, too. A cardiac surgeon at Emory.”

“Wow,” she said, clearly impressed. “But you had no interest in medicine?”

“Less than zero,” he told her.

“A rebellion against your parents?”

He considered her question for a minute. “I don't think so. As soon as I got my first LEGO set, I always liked to build things, then knock them down and build them up again even better. Becoming a contractor seemed a natural progression from that.”

“I'd say there are a lot of home owners who are extremely happy that you chose home renovations over medicine.”

“Would you be one of them?”

“Maybe you should ask me that question after my new kitchen has been unveiled,” she suggested.

“I will,” he told her.

Although the baby monitor was up in Zachary's room, Kylie's scream came through loud and clear, followed by gulping sobs that twisted Lauryn's heart.

“Mama! Mama! Where are you, Mama?”

Lauryn raced up the stairs, anxious not only to alleviate Kylie's growing panic but to quiet her before she managed to wake up her brother, too.

When she entered the room, she found her daughter sitting up in bed, her eyes wide and her cheeks streaked with tears.

“I'm here,” Lauryn told her, lowering herself onto the edge of the mattress.

Kylie threw herself at Lauryn, sobbing against her chest. “I had a bad dweam, Mama.”

She stroked a hand over her daughter's silky hair, gently untangling the twisted strands. “I know, honey. But the dream's over now and Mama's here.”

“You stay wif me?”

“For a minute,” she agreed.

Kylie scooted over to make room and patted the empty space on her pillow.

Lauryn hesitated, not wanting to be away from her kitchen assignment for too long but knowing her daughter would settle more easily if she stayed with her awhile. So she lay down beside her. “Close your eyes and go back to sleep, honey.”

“You close your eyes,” Kylie said.

So Lauryn did...for just a minute. Because comforting her children always comforted her, too. And maybe taking an extra minute away from the not just sexy but sweet Ryder Wallace would help her restore her equilibrium. Maybe.

Chapter Nine

T
hrough the baby monitor on the counter, Ryder could hear the soft murmur of voices, though he couldn't hear the actual words. Kylie's outburst had given him quite a jolt, and before he even realized what was happening, Lauryn was racing up the stairs to her daughter.

He was surprised by the urge to follow her, to see for himself that everything was okay with the little girl. But it really wasn't any of his concern. Whatever monsters existed in Kylie's nightmares, he had no doubt that Lauryn would handle them. After only a short acquaintance with her, Ryder didn't doubt that she could handle anything.

Though she might look all soft and fragile, he knew that there was a steely strength beneath her silky skin. She was as much a warrior as a nurturer, and he was in danger of becoming infatuated with both parts of her.

He focused his attention on his task, pausing only to reply to a couple of text messages that came through on his cell phone. One from Arielle—a veterinarian assistant he'd dated for a few weeks in the summer—and two from Samantha—a high school gym teacher he'd gone out with exactly once. He replied to both that he was busy with work and unavailable for the foreseeable future, without a hint of regret that it was true.

Even before
Ryder to the Rescue
had made him a pseudo-celebrity, he'd attracted a fair amount of attention from women, and he couldn't deny that he'd enjoyed his popularity. His sister had occasionally accused him of enjoying it too much. But he was always honest about what he wanted and he always treated the women he dated with respect. Recently, though, he'd found himself starting to grow weary of the whole dating scene and wondering if he wasn't ready for something more.

He immediately shook his head, appalled that such a thought would even cross his mind. Of course, he wasn't weary of the dating scene. Short-term relationships were the hallmark of his life; commitments and entanglements were to be avoided at all costs. Then his thoughts drifted to the mother who was upstairs now, soothing her frightened child, and he acknowledged that there might be circumstances in which the benefits exceeded the costs.

Ryder pushed the tempting thought aside. He was nearly finished in the kitchen when Lauryn made her way back downstairs.

“I'm so sorry,” she said. “I just snuggled with Kylie for a few minutes, to make sure she was settled, and I guess I fell asleep, too.”

“That's okay,” he told her. “I managed to carry on without you.”

She looked at the stacked and labeled boxes, then at the empty cupboards. “I feel like the shoemaker who wakes up to discover the elves have done all of his work.”

“You still have to figure out where you want everything in the dining room,” he told her. “But that can wait until the morning.”

“Thank you.”

“Is Kylie okay?” he asked, sincerely concerned about the terror he'd heard in the little girl's voice.

Lauryn nodded. “She's sleeping soundly now.”

“Does she often have bad dreams?”

“Not so much recently—thank God,” she told him. “But for a while, she was waking up almost every night, and occasionally several times in one night.”

“Any idea what triggers that?”

“You mean other than her father suddenly disappearing from her life?”

He winced. “I guess that would do it.”

She nodded. “The pediatrician has assured me that it's a fairly normal response to what she's been through and that she'll eventually outgrow them.”

“Was she okay last Saturday night—at her sleepover?”

“She was,” Lauryn confirmed. “Which is a big step. She used to love staying at my parents' house, but sleepovers have been few and far between over the past nine months.”

He could understand that Kylie would want to stick close to the one parent she had left, and he wondered again about the kind of man who could walk away from not only his wife but his beautiful daughter and unborn son. His own parents had hardly been role models, but they'd accepted the responsibilities of parenthood—or at least those they couldn't abdicate to the nanny.

“It's hard to see the changes in her,” Lauryn admitted softly. “She was always an outgoing and affectionate child who never shied away from strangers.”

“She certainly didn't shy away from me,” he noted. “Even on day one, after you'd closed the door in my face, she invited me to have tea with her.”

Lauryn smiled a little at the memory. “Well, you did give her flowers. A girl never forgets the first boy who gives her flowers.”

He didn't know if that was true, but he liked to think the little girl would remember him when he was gone. And as soon as the kitchen was done, he would be gone, so it would be crazy to even think about starting something with Lauryn. But he couldn't deny that he was tempted.

“Everything changed after Rob left,” she said, picking up the thread of their previous conversation. “She started to panic anytime I was out of her sight. I was in the hospital for two nights when Zachary was born, and she was almost inconsolable during that time.”

“Who stayed with her then?”

“She stayed with my parents.” Lauryn went to the fridge—relocated to the dining room—and retrieved a bottle of chardonnay, then looked around as if trying to remember what she'd done with the wineglasses. Since he'd packed them away, he found the box easily.

“You're not having one?” she asked, when he handed her a glass.

“Are you offering to share?”

“Sure.”

So he retrieved a second glass and poured wine for himself while Lauryn sipped hers.

“My parents have been so great through this whole thing,” she told him. “Actually, my whole family's been great, but my parents have gone above and beyond.”

Although he had no personal experience with that kind of support, he knew that family were supposed to be the people to turn to in a time of crisis. He couldn't imagine ever relying on either of his parents, but he knew his sister would be there for him—as he would for her.

“My mom understood Kylie's apprehension, but she also believed that her granddaughter needed to stop clinging to me twenty-four/seven. When Zachary was about six months old, she planned a special day for Kylie. She and my dad took her to the zoo in Asheville, then to Buster Bear's and finally back to their house for the night.”

“Any three-year-old's fantasy,” he remarked with a smile.

She sipped her wine, then nodded. “And Kylie had a fabulous time—until she found out that she was sleeping over. Then she had a complete meltdown. She cried and screamed, but my mother remained firm. She told Kylie that she could call me to say good-night, but only if she stopped crying.”

“Sounds like tough love.”

“A little tougher than I was prepared for,” Lauryn admitted. “I understood what she was doing, that she wanted Kylie to learn to trust that I would be there in the morning, but it was so hard for me to hear my little girl fighting against tears.” She smiled wryly. “I don't think any of us slept that night, but the panic attacks finally started to fade. In fact, this is the first one she's had in several weeks.”

“But when they happen, they upset you as much as they upset her,” he guessed.

“When you're a parent, there's nothing worse than a child who is hurting—especially when you can't do anything about it.”

Maybe a parent like Lauryn, but he already knew that she was one of a kind. He touched her hand, and her quick intake of breath confirmed that she wasn't oblivious to the chemistry between them, either.

“But you are doing something,” he told her, as she carefully drew her hand away from his. “You're showing her that she can depend on you to be there for her.”

She lifted her glass to her lips again, swallowed the final sip. “I'm not sure that's much consolation to a little girl who's missing her daddy.”

He tipped the bottle, emptying the last of the wine into her glass. “Do you miss him, too?”

Ryder wasn't sure what compelled him to ask the question, except that he wanted to know. When she'd first told him that her husband was gone, she'd said that she wasn't sorry. But she'd been on the defensive that day, and he wondered if she'd held back her true feelings.

“I got used to Rob not being here a long time before he ever left,” she told him. “When he packed up and moved out, it was almost a relief, because I could finally stop pretending that everything was normal. And then, of course, I felt guilty for being relieved, because of Kylie and Zachary.”

“Divorce is hardly uncommon today,” he pointed out to her.

“It is in my family,” she retorted. “My parents have been married thirty-nine years, and both of my father's brothers have been married to their wives for more than forty. And all of my cousins who are married—and most of them are—have figured out how to make it work.

“Well, Matt was divorced from his first wife,” she acknowledged. “But that wasn't his fault.”

“There doesn't have to be fault,” Ryder told her. “Sometimes things just don't work out.”

“Are you speaking from personal experience?” she challenged.

He nodded. “I was around Kylie's age when my parents split up.”

The confession succeeded in banking some of the fire in her eyes, and when she spoke again, her tone was more curious than confrontational. “Do you remember much from that time?”

“It's hard to separate what I actually remember from what I've been told, but it wasn't particularly traumatic. We were living in Brookhaven at the time, so my mom chose to move out, to get a place closer to the Northeast Georgia Medical Center, where she was working.”

Her forehead crinkled. “Your mother left—and left you and your sister behind?”

He smiled at the outrage in her voice. “We were well taken care of,” he assured her.

“By your father?”

“By the nanny,” he clarified. “And when my mom was settled again, she and my dad shared custody, which meant that we moved back and forth every two weeks.”

“How was that?” she asked curiously.

He shrugged. “It was the status quo, as far as I knew, and Hennie moved back and forth with us.”

“That's one good thing about Rob moving to California,” she said. “At least there wasn't any fighting over custody.”

“I have a feeling he wouldn't have stood a chance.”

She managed a smile at that, and the sweet curve of her lips seemed to arrow straight to his heart—which was Ryder's cue to make his escape, before he became even more mired in his unbidden awareness of Lauryn.

He finished his wine and set the empty glass on the table. She automatically rose to her feet as he did. “Thank you—for all of your help tonight.”

“You're welcome.”

“I guess I'll see you in the morning,” she said, following him to the door.

“You will,” he confirmed, but he hesitated with his hand on the knob.

When he looked at her again, he saw in her expression a combination of awareness and wariness. The former tempted him to move closer; the latter propelled him to walk away.

He did so, already counting the hours.

* * *

Friday afternoon, Lauryn enlisted Jordyn to babysit Kylie and Zachary while she went into Raleigh to meet with Adam Carr, a former assistant manager of The Locker Room. The college student had worked for Rob for four years before taking a job at a bigger store in the bigger city. At least, that was her ex-husband's explanation for his employee's departure. When she'd crossed paths with Adam a few weeks earlier, she'd discovered that the truth was a little bit different.

Adam had left The Locker Room because he had a lot of ideas to generate more business for the store and he was frustrated by Rob's refusal to hear them. Lauryn was desperate for ideas and eager to listen, and after their conversation, she'd immediately offered him a management position. All the way home, she anticipated sharing the details with her sister. But when she pulled into her driveway, Jordyn's car wasn't there.

Lauryn hurried into the house, halting abruptly in the entrance of the living room where Kylie was kneeling on the floor, a coloring book and crayons on the coffee table in front of her, and Zachary was asleep in his playpen, his favorite blanket clutched in one hand, the thumb of the other in his mouth.

She pressed a hand to her racing heart and released an unsteady breath. Her children were here. They were fine.

And sitting on the sofa, watching over them, was Ryder.

“Where's Jordyn?” she asked, when she managed to catch her breath again.

“She got a call from the author she works with—something about an emergency last-minute revision—and said she had to go.”

Lauryn was incredulous. “And she just left?”

“Only after she asked me to hang around until you got home,” he explained.

“I'm so sorry,” Lauryn said. “She never should have imposed on you that way.”

“It's okay,” he assured her. “Your sister had somewhere to be. I didn't.”

But Lauryn had deliberately stayed away until she was sure he'd be gone, because after the time they'd spent together Monday night, she'd worried that she'd shared too much. Revealed too much. And the insights he'd given her into his own family had changed her perspective on him. He wasn't just America's Hottest Handyman to her now—he was a real person, with real-life experiences and scars. And it was that man she was drawn to more and more every time she was near him.

“Well, thank you for staying, but I'm sure you want to get home now, and I need to get supper on.”

“Wyder said we can have pizza,” Kylie chimed in.

Lauryn shook her head. “Not tonight, honey. I've got spaghetti sauce in the freezer—”

“Pizza,” her daughter insisted.